


Steam burns from a whistling kettle

by johnegbertkin



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dadza, Family Dynamics, Haircuts, Long hair Techno supremacy, Pig Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade tries to commit murder, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnegbertkin/pseuds/johnegbertkin
Summary: Phil trusts Technoblade to care for his sons while he tries to beat the snowstorm and run some errands,AKATommy gets revenge for Technoblade’s bad haircut and nearly dies because of it(Yes, he does cut off all of Techno’s hair)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Steam burns from a whistling kettle

Animosity had always been present in Tommy and Technoblade’s relationship, but Phil could recall the night exactly when it struck the boiling point. 

It was the tailend of fall, the last days of october fleeting as they enjoyed what they could of the fall weather until it was covered by snow. Winters came early in the Arctic, and tonight they were expecting the biggest snowstorm the boys had ever seen, and Phil had a lot to get done before the nightfall. 

First, he’d wake up and go to the market. These would be the last hours it would be open until next spring, so he’d need to buy what they needed. He’d buy treats from Hannah’s bakery, her sweet little apprentice, Niki, was a real gem (especially in the eyes of his oldest son, Wilbur) and he’d buy the boys something. Then, he’d see Puffy about the winter coats he’d commissioned her to make him. Tommy was growing like a weed, so it seemed like he needed a new coat every winter. Finally, he’d skim the list the kids had crudely written out for him, getting them anything they insisted was “necessary” to survive the winter cooped up in the house. 

Of course, these chores would take all day. Phil wasn’t opposed to early rising, early bird gets the worm if you will, but it was his boys he’d had to worry about. He’d found from experience that bringing them along was tiresome and annoying, Wilbur always dragging his feet and Tommy complaining. Both of them were horribly unpunctual, and having to travel on foot would add time to the trip, which Phil wasn’t sure he had much of. Seeing as the market closed by 11, and the bakery soon followed, he wouldn’t want to keep Puffy waiting and bothered by the nagging of his insufferable children. Still, a miserable day dragging his two jerks around wouldn't be nearly as terrible as all the bad things that could happen if Technoblade was left in charge. See, Wilbur was rather capable, being the older of the two, but Tommy was the real point of contention. 

Wilbur kept to himself, able to get lost in a book about maps, or practicing a piece on the old wooden piano in the living room. He was still snarky, and if you got him going, he wouldn’t let you live it down, but with not much interest in Technoblade anyways, he was bearable at best, annoying at worst. However, Tommy was a completely different story. 

Tommy was Tommy, take it how you will. He is loud, rambunctious, and nothing short of a handful. Talking your ear off, he can’t stay on one topic for too long, bouncing around the house like a wild animal, clawing and destroying everything in his wake. For someone like Technoblade, who’s calm demeanor was not easily shaken, Tommy pushed all the right buttons to drive him completely insane. Tommy was a fighter, and if he sensed even a dusting of irritation in your voice or body language, he would bark until you were sure you were going to kill him. As young children do, he found joy in causing mayhem, and Phil was well aware that it took centuries of built up patience to handle such havoc. 

This is why, the few times Technoblade was even considered as a babysitter, Phil could expect one of two greetings once he returned home. The screaming of his youngest child as he bolted out the door, clinging to him like a shell shaken soldier, Technoblade huffing in anger with a sword in hand, or alternatively, all three boys spilling out the door, every single one of them trying to get their story out first, Phil bombarded with “he is lying”’s and “don’t listen to him!”’s. Although you might expect Technoblade, a man who had years on Phil’s boys, to behave responsibly when promised to a task that required an adult, Phil was often surprised how easily he himself reverted to a teenager like state, completely unraveled by their antics. 

This is why, when Phil asked once again, telling Technoblade about the conditions of the favor, he was met with a scowl and the grinding of teeth. Techno argued silently with himself before relaxing his shoulders, glancing at Phil and agreeing, with nothing more than a mumbled out “... fine.” 

Phil left that morning before his children even had the chance to wake up, seen off only by Technoblade, who clearly was dissatisfied with the arrangement. 

“I’ll be back before the snow starts,” Phil led, “and you’ll only need to make sure they eat breakfast and lunch. Don’t fight with Tommy, just let him eat what he wants, and tell Wilbur that I want him to go out and retrieve anything outside him and Tommy don’t want swallowed by the snow.” Phil put a hand on the doorframe, fluttering out his wings to get them prepared for flight, turning to Techno with a serious expression “, and please, mate, don’t kill him.” 

“I promise no absolutes” Technoblade cracked a joke, not offering more than a twitch at the corners of his mouth. Phil didn’t return the gesture, only affirming his serious glare before softening his expression. 

“Oh, and one thing—” 

“What?” Techno asked, suspicious.

“Tommy needs a haircut.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.”

With that, Phil patted down the stairs, holding the bag at his side as he gave his wings a few good flaps before lifting himself off the solid ground, waving back at Technoblade with a smile as he took to the air, the early morning wind beating on his face. Soothing his anxiety, he trusted that Techno’s respect and understanding of Phil’s deep love for Wilbur and Tommy would stop him from hurting them in any meaningful way, but still the idea lingered. He knew Techno well, and he knew the constant inner turmoil he faced with the thing he called “the voices”, and the idea of him giving into such dark urges while he was away was almost enough to make him turn back. But, regardless, he assured himself that Techno could be trusted, and he continued with his necessary errands. 

As planned, he arrived at the market first, running into Bad as he purchased mushrooms, rice, and vegetables to be kept for food, holding carrots in a scrap cloth as Bad’s young son rammed directly into him. Making him jump, Sapnap immediately threatened him with the weapon Bad unsurprisingly allowed him to be armed with, Phil putting up his hands defensively. Bad would call him off in a state of panic, reminding Sapnap that the sword on his belt was a tool, not a toy. He was getting so big, nearly two heads taller then Skeppy, his hair resting against his shoulders in a fluffy, thick mess, pulled out of his face by a white bandana. Bad, big as ever, crouched for Phil to comfortably speak to him. 

“How are the boys? Not causing too much trouble, I’d hope!” Bad spoke sweetly, his voice so charming. 

“No more than usual, sometimes I think Tommy only does it to get a rise out of me” Phil scolds playfully, Bad obviously in understanding. 

“Sappy is the same, so headstrong” Bad shook his head “but I’m still proud of him, he doesn’t let anyone walk over him. He’s good at sticking up for himself” Bad insisted, Phil’s eyes catching as Sapnap pulled his sword on another passerby, Skeppy frantically trying to stop him. 

“I can see that” Phil chuckled, Bad standing to attention and wishing Phil a good day , wishing him safe travels home as he chased after his rambunctious preteen. 

Phil moved on, recovering the list from his satchel and reading over it ; Wilbur would want new books to read, new books to write in, and quills and ink to write with. He could find all of that at one stand, even buying the materials to bind his own as to set up a moment for him to ask Technoblade to help him, as he always did. Phil had careful hands, but Techno was tactful, always able to bind a book tightly while still keeping the folds delicate and presentable. Wilbur had scribbled out the names of the books he wanted, and Phil grabbed a few more he assumed Wilbur would find interesting. If not, Tommy could shred them up and make paper airplanes, cootie catchers, cranes, and other origami shapes. Speaking of, Tommy wanted paints, wooden tools to play make believe with, and misspelled he wrote “endher pherl”, an arrow pointing to a crudely drawn enderpearl, colored in with semi-accurate paints, Tommy doing what he could with what he has. That boy was crazy if he thought Phil would, or could for that matter, get him a pearl of his own, but he’d see what he could do at the bakery. 

He’d find his way to the bakery sooner than he expected, entering with the gentle chime of the bell. He was greeted pleasantly by the smells of fresh cookies, brownies, and sweets. Niki would perk up, starting the rehearsed greeting she’d offer any other customer before peaking her eye open and cutting herself off, a cheeky smile spreading on her face as she noticed it was only Phil. 

“Good morning, Mr. Minecraft! What are you doing here?” She asked, excitedly, propping herself up on the flour covered counter to look around him, frowning when she noticed he was alone. 

“Getting surprises for the boys, it’s supposed to snow badly tonight, so I’m getting what we need so we don’t have to make any trips into the city soon” Phil explained, the young girl pretending to listen. 

“We are supposed to get some snow soon, Hannah is letting us close early so we can get home before it gets too bad!” Niki explained, brushing sugar off the front of her shirt, smacking her hands together to get it off. 

“You better, it’s not gonna be pretty” Phil assured, looking up pleasantly as Hannah approached the counter, pie boxes in her arms. He quickly rushed to help her as she went to set them down, almost missing the table completely, the girl jumping in surprise as he helped her lower them down correctly. 

“Oh gosh, that would’ve been bad” She laughed, looking at Niki who noticed the adults were smiling, so she copied them. 

“So what do they want?” Niki asked, leaning herself back over the counter, undoing all that cleanup she did before. 

“I’m sure you know what Wilbur wants, but Tommy wants something special” Phil rolled his eyes “Is it possible for you guys to frost me a cookie that looks like an ender pearl? He says he wants one and I'll be damned if he thinks he’s getting a real one.” 

“Tommy flying around the server with those things? Yeah, sounds ideal” Hannah joked, turned to Niki who was packaging up a poppyseed muffin for Wilbur, doodling a heart on the top of the box “, Yeah I can do that for you, just give me a second to mix colors!” Phil took the box from Niki, smirking at the heart, Niki following Hannah into the kitchen. After a few minutes of waiting, he was greeted with the cookie he requested, digging into his bag to pay for the sweets. Dropping the gold into Hannah’s hand, he stopped himself, looking at the menu items. 

“I’m so sorry, can I also get one chocolate croissant?” Hannah nodded, Niki running to package it up and give it to Phil. He took it happily, neatly sorting it away to asure they didn’t get ruined, paying again and saying his goodbyes. 

Final stop was Puffy’s house, invited inside, he stood with her in the entry as she pulled up the coats she had made him, explaining to him how frustrating the sleeves were to sew. She happily invited him to stay and talk, and he sadly declined, explaining his not so ideal babysitting situation. Both being parents, they’d often had gossip like talks about their kids, and their living arrangements. 

“Oh god, are you sure they’re okay?” Puffy laughed, folding the coats up neatly so Phil could easily get them home. 

“I’m praying” Phil jokes with her, unsure if she can understand his real anxiety “I’ve only been away a few hours, that would honestly be a new record for Techno.”

“A new record for Tommy! i’m sure he’s driving him absolutely wild as we speak” She says 

“That’s what I'm afraid of” Phil grates his teeth “Speaking of wild, where is your little monster?” 

“Oh, Dream?” Puffy chuckled “With George, those two, if I didn’t raise him, I'd be surprised if you told me those boys weren’t attached by the hip at birth.” 

“That’s sweet though, I’m glad he’s making friends” Phil smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Gosh, me too! I was worried that he and Sapnap were going to be going at this world alone together. They make a good trio, those boys.” Puffy expressed 

They talked for a while, Phil cursing himself for staying to talk even after turning down the Ram woman’s invitation, explaining that he had to get going. Taking to the sky, he flew home in a hurry, landing in the front yard just as the flurry started to drift from the sky, not cold enough to stick to the grass quite yet. Praying, he rattled the door handle, pushing the door open and expecting chaos, scrunching up his face and pinching his eyes shut in anticipation and… and nothing. 

As the door swung open, he heard the peaceful sounds of his son playing piano. Phil was suspicious, heading inside and getting the turnt head of Wilbur, whose face lit up when he saw him. 

“Dad!” He called, kicking his feet over the stool and running over to him, hugging him delightfully. 

“Hello, Wilbur! How was it while I was away?” 

Wilbur only laughed mischievously, putting a hand to his mouth dramatically as if to hide his laugh. “You aren’t going to be pleased!” 

“Pleased with what?” Phil cocked his head, setting down all the goods and wares he’d bought that day on the kitchen counter, just as the sound of bare feet scurried across the floor towards him. 

“Philza!” The voice cried, familiar and whiny as his youngest, Tommy, ran towards him at full speed, colliding with his gut. 

“Oof!— Oh goodness, Tommy, what’s the ma,” Philza stopped himself, looking down at Tommy with shock. 

His blonde hair, which had been outrageously long, had been chopped so short he couldn’t even run his hands through it. Although Phil hadn’t imagined it so short, he scratched his head with his blunt nails and shrugged it off, the haircut even and getting the job done. However, Tommy seemed to be in a much different headspace, face covered in tears as he tried to wipe his eyes, Phil crouching to his level to wipe his face, Tommy hugging around his neck. 

“My hair!” Tommy sobbed, dramatically shifting all his weight against Phil, who was now taxed with keeping him upright. 

“Aw, Tom, it’s not so bad! I think it looks quite charming” Phil assured, annoyed by the cheeky look on Wilburs face as he stared down at them with crossed arms. 

“I liked my hair long! It was dashing!” Tommy spit out, Phil certain Tommy didn’t even understand that word's meaning. 

“Aw, well you still look dashing! And, it’ll grow back in no time, Tommy, don’t cry” Phil soothed, standing and pulling Tommy into his arms, cradling him in a hug. 

As he held him, Technoblade finally made an appearance, his own long hair pulled into a ponytail, his sleeves rolled up. Phil smiled at him over Tommy’s shoulder, rolling his eyes silently at Tommy’s theatrics, Technoblade shrugging. It was then that Tommy had noticed him entering the room, pulling his head away from Phil to shift his attention, wiping his eyes. 

“He ruined my hair! He’s a bully, a wrongen!” Tommy shouted, Phil quickly shushing him. 

“Come on, Tommy, he did an alright job” Phil said “Maybe it’s too short, next time we’ll cut it longer, now that we know it makes you so upset—“

“No! It’s already been done! My hair is ruined and it’s all his fault!” Tommy shouted, clinging to Phil like a toddler, his father continuing to soothe. 

“Shush now, no need to shout” Phil claimed “Here, I know what’ll cheer you up, I got you a gift.” 

And at the mention of gifts, Tommy pulled his head upright to look at Phil, silencing himself and sniffing curiously. Peaking Wilbur’s interest as well, he put his youngest boy on the floor and turned to the bags, tucking his wings away as Tommy instinctively went to go and grab at the feathers. Emptying the bag of its treasures, Wilbur climbed up on the stool to get a better look, gasping joyously as he looked at all the new books he had to fill, shaking around the ink cellulose, looking at the liquid slosh around. He had gotten him inks of all different colors, dyed with oxeye daisies and roses, making new and exciting shades for him to doodle with. Wilbur showed them off to Tommy, who made grabby hands for them, Wilbur quickly swiping it away before Tommy could get his grubby hands around the bottle. He wasn’t left out, however, Phil pulling out the freshly carved wooden play-sword, not even having to give it to Tommy as he hopped into the air and pulled it from his hand, Phil laughing through his irritation. 

“Best of all, I went and paid a visit to Niki,” Phil said, Wilbur lighting up and leaning into him, trying to get a peek at the baked goods he had trapped in boxes “And she made you both something very special!” 

The boys happily pulled open the respective boxes, Wilbur taking no time to take a large bite from his muffin. Tommy, however, much to Phil’s delight and surprise, took a while staring at the frosting with a devilish smile on his face before destroying it with his teeth. They were happy, bragging about their new distractions to each other, Tommy nearly forgetting about his dastardly haircut as Phil cleaned up. 

The snow came down hard, fast, and as the door was sealed he promised the boys it wouldn’t open again until the snow stopped. They didn’t argue, Phil pulled closed any opening and blocked any window that could let in the chill, Techno starting a fire in the fireplace to keep them warm. It was a quiet, peaceful night, something Phil wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. Tommy fell asleep on the couch to the sounds of Wilbur scratching the pages of his book with a quill, his toys spilled all over the floor as Phil carried him to bed. Techno wouldn’t sleep until Phil did, untying his hair and letting the long, pink, hair sway just above his thighs, his shirt unbuttoned sleepily as Phil wished him a goodnight, blowing out the lantern by his door. 

It wasn’t until the morning that Phil realized he had left the stove on, the water from the pot that contained his family, spilling over the edges and sizzling on the stove. 

Phil was an early riser by nature, but that didn’t mean that he had to pull himself from bed. He would rest half asleep for a while, sucking in as much time to breathe as he had, hoping the snow day would keep his boys in bed for as long as possible. Stretched out comfortably in bed, Phil could hear everything in the creaky, old house, his attention peaked when he heard a sudden and unusual bustle from Technoblades room, which sat nearest to his own. The tussle of his bed was followed by a sudden stomp, a mumble, and the sound of his door flying open and smacking against the wall outside of it. Phil was up in seconds as he heard heavy footsteps on the ground, heavy with anger and panic, a physical cue he knew well in his old friend. 

Out of bed and out of his room, Phil ran into the living room frantically. It was there he found Technoblade, staring at himself in the mirror that hung against the wall, a hand in his hair— 

His hair. 

Phil was drained of all color as he looked at his friend, his own face painted in horror. Technoblade was in denial, or disbelief, as his eyes were trained on himself in the mirror, a shaky hand weaving through what was left of his long hair. Cut wildly and incredibly uneven, some sections completely untouched, some scissored all the way to his shoulders, some pieces shredded and layered seemingly by accident, and some sections completely cut to the scalp. It was a mess, a hot mess, and Phil would diagnose it as completely unsavable. 

Technoblade glanced at Phil, a dead, inhuman look in his eyes. Cut hair sat on his shoulders, and as Phil looked at his feet, he saw that Techno left behind a trail of hair all the way from his bedroom, clumps resting on the cold floor. It was all too much to process, and worst of all, Phil knew exactly who had done it. 

“Mate—“ Phil spoke first, seemingly triggering something inside of Technoblade, who didn’t get the opportunity to express it before the situation went from bad to worse. 

As if summoned, the ladder creaked, Tommy hanging off of it by one arm as he stared Technoblade dead in the eyes. In his small hand, between his thumb and pointer finger, Tommy held a pair of scissors far too big for his size, an evil look on his face. 

“I like the haircut, Technoblade” Tommy spoke, the air hot with rage as Techno clenched his fists “Very dashing.” 

It took all of Phil’s strength to beat Technoblade to Tommy, locking his arms under his armpits and digging his heels into the floor, pulling Technoblade back as he lunged at the child. Panicked, Phil gagged around his words, strands of hair flying into the air as Phil ripped Technoblade backwards and threw him behind himself. Techno hardly stumbled as Phil put himself between the two, opening his wings to act as a wall, putting up his hands to deter the two from even moving. Techno heaved like an enraged animal, so hard you could probably see the steam leaving his nose, his eyes blood thirsty, his hair a mess. 

“You horrible, little, annoying, ugly monster!” Technoblade shouted, much louder than he ever allowed his voice. He would damage it if he wasn’t careful, already clearly strained. 

“That’s what you get!” Tommy shouted over Phil’s shoulder, throwing the scissors against the floor like he was completely oblivious to the safety hazard. 

“Boys, stop it!” Phil called in a moment of panic, trying to figure out what to say, or do. Did he stop Technoblade, or scream at his own child for his incompetence. This was an irreversible action, and all Phil had left to do was insure that they didn’t have a murder on their hands. 

“I’m going to kill you!” Technoblade promised, two hands coming up to his scalp as the grief kicked in. 

“You ruined my hair, so I ruined yours! It’s only fair—“

Technoblade lunged forward again, throwing himself against Phil who was hardly any match for the big man, fighting with pure adrenaline and paternal instincts alone. He put his hands against Technos chest, shoving him backwards as he flapped his wings defensively, shooting daggers at Techno with his eyes. 

“Stop it! You can’t attack a child!” Philza reminded him

“Look what he did to me, Phil! Look what he did to my hair!” Techno cried, pulling out another clump of loose hair, shaking out his hand, “I’ve been growing it out for years, years! It’s all gone, he ruined it!” 

Being reminded also reminded Phil of his anger towards Tommy, but he couldn’t let Technoblade have his way. No matter what, Tommy was only a child. 

“You have to calm down, Technoblade—“

“That monster ruined my hair!” 

“He’s 8!” Phil screamed back, throwing a hand towards Tommy whose confidence had completely shattered, scared as he clung to the ladder. Phil turned his head, redirecting his anger towards the boy on the ladder, who knit his eyebrows together in response “And you, what were you thinking?!”

“He ruined my hair!” Tommy screamed, as if it was obvious, and a stupid question. 

“So your haircut made you upset, so you decided to make him upset too?” Phil tried to reason, but Technoblade wasn’t going to make it easy. 

“Make me upset?” Techno yelled again “I’m beyond upset, I’m beyond enraged! That little shit is going to hell!” 

“Hey!” Phil turned back, his anger clear in his tone. 

“Try me!” Tommy screamed back

“Enough!” Phil attempted, but was ignored. 

Technoblade would attempt to run through Phil again, to Tommy, and would succeed in knocking Phil to the ground with a mean shoulder check. The second Phil hit the ground, Tommy nearly pissed himself, shooting up the ladder like a spider monkey. He barely made it through the hatch door as Technoblade caught his ankle, making the young boy scream in unfiltered terror. The sound kicked Phil into overdrive, who stumbled to his feet and hooked an arm around Technoblade, pulling him back in a moment of shock, the pigman letting go of Tommy. The blonde boy escaped upstairs, the hatch door slamming as he heard Wilbur start to yell, muffled by the floorboards. 

“Let go of me!” Technoblade thrashed, huffing. 

“Mate! You have to relax! Calm down, breathe!” Phil begged, having his smaller body thrown from Technoblades shoulders like a rag doll. He hit the ground with a pained noise, that seeming to be the only thing that snapped Techno out of his rage. 

Phil’s hips, and legs in general, weren’t what they used to be. Years of being unable to stick the landing when he came down from the sky had done a real number on his body, and as he hit the ground it was no different. Landing on his side, a pain shot down his legs like needle pricks, unable to contain the whine that escaped his ragged throat. Techno froze, putting up his hands, eyes shooting around. He quickly assisted Phil to his feet, the old man laughing as he joked about his “damn hip!”, Techno not finding the humor in it. 

“I’m sorry” He apologized quickly, still clearly angry. 

“It’s okay, really” Phil assured “But please, be calm” 

“It’s—“ Techno grinds his teeth “It’s so hard to be calm! I’m so angry, I’m devastated!” 

“I’m devastated too! I love your hair” Phil comforted, reaching up a hand to touch the messy and ruined strands “, But you have to remember that Tommy is a stupid, unreasonable child! He didn’t consider the consequences, or the emotional attachment—“

“He’ll consider the consequences when I’m driving my fist through his stoma—“

“No! Stop that, you're working yourself back up!” Phil shut him down, putting up both his hands to take Technos face “Stay calm, please, look at me— calm,”

Techno avoided eye contact for a moment, before they locked eyes, his heavy breathing slowing, his jaw unclenching. He let tears prick at his eyes, his hands still trembling like leaves. 

“Let them stay up there, I’ll talk to Tommy” Phil said, his own anger returning “But first, let’s see what we can do to fix it?” 

“There is no fixing it!” 

“Lucky for you, it’s only the first day of winter” Phil teased, still earnest in his attempts to soothe “, you’ll have plenty of time for it to even out, and look! You still have some good chunks of long...ish hair! We can make it work,” 

Phil wasn’t completely convinced himself, but the soft look of content that briefly washed over Technos face was enough to calm the old man's nerves. First, Phil would lead Technoblade to the kitchen, sitting him down on one of the stools that pushed up against the island in the small area, the pigman running his hands through hair incessantly. Phil retrieved the scissors from the livingroom floor, laying partially open from their collision with the ground. Phil spun them on his fingers as he approached Technoblade, who’s eyebrows were still knitted together with anger. The tears in his eyes were flushed out before being given the chance to fall, Phil taking a section of the hair into his hand to really assess what to do. 

He took the longest piece left, one right in front of Technos face, getting his attention. “Most of the hair is this long,” he used the strand as a guide, making his fingers mimic scissors as he showed him how much hair he’d need to cut off, falling right above his shoulder, “but I can go a little longer if you don’t mind it being uneven?”

Technoblades face scrunched when he saw the length Phil was suggesting, completely disgusted over the entire situation. Phil was too, and he could read it on his face. 

“Do you think i’d still be able to tie it up?” Technoblade asked, playing nonchalantly with the long pieces in the front, trying to pretend he wasn’t. 

“Well ah,” Phil paused “I don’t know…”

Techno looked down, dejected. 

“Well, um” Phil rolled his lips together, regripping the scissors in his hand “Here, how about we,” 

And Phil began snipping. Cutting the hair evenly, taking slowly and trying to come out with as much hair as possible. The shorter it got, and as the weight left it, the shorter hair started to flip and curl in different directions, hugging his jaw and cheeks, clinging to his neck where it could. Technoblade was silent as he laid all of his trust at Phil’s feet, the blonde man shaking with nerves. If Techno hated his hair, Phil was probably getting every bone in his wings snapped and misplaced. He left the two strands in the front long, snipping the broken ends where Tommy likely hadn’t been cautious with the scissors. How did Technoblade sleep through what looked like a kindergarten art project being made on his head, the snipping of steel scissors shearing around his ears? Phil didn’t dare rub more salt in the wound, standing back to make sure the hack job bangs he just made weren’t completely lopsided, sighing and putting his arms at his sides. 

“That’s all I can do for you, mate” He sighed, wiping his forehead and tucking his wings snug to his back. 

Technoblade slowly stood up, shaking his head like a wet dog, more hair floating to the ground as he let out a sigh. Brushing off his sleeves, he took a deep sigh before approaching the mirror, not sparing any time to prepare, immediately looking back at the reflection. He brought a hand up to his head, combing with his fingers like a brush, the short hair barely flowing through his fingers before it was over, his lips quivering. Pushing two fingers to his cheekbones on either side, he checked out the rest of the style, turning his head and trying to take it all in. He had lost more than 12 inches, the long hair no longer kissing the backs of his thighs, but hardly reaching his shoulders. The short, layered hairstyle clung to his neck like a wolf scruff, curling around his ears and up his neck in a way Phil had never seen his hair do. It wouldn’t tie up, not for awhile, you probably couldn’t even get a tie around the hair, but still Techno seemed surprisingly at ease. 

“You did alright” He finally spoke, barely audible.

“I know you don’t like it but, uh, I hope it atleast looks presentable now” Phil chuckled, his friendly laughter seeming to pull at the corners of Techno’s lips. 

“It’s better then before I just… I miss my hair” He was honest, a glint in his eyes obvious when the hair was mentioned, an anger returning. 

Phil put a hand on his back, a soft shush pulling from his mouth almost reflexively, feeling as Technos back slowly detensed and he sighed. 

“It’s alright, Techno” He said, hoping the words weren’t repetitive and empty to his friend. 

Technoblade sat back against the stool, repeatedly running a hand through his hair, silence wading around the two like thick molasses. Phil paused for a few seconds before turning to look at the mess on his floor, leaving Techno to fetch a broom, sweeping around his feet to scoop up the pink hair into a dustpan, Technoblade lifting his feet slightly so he could go beneath them. He took the broom into his room as well, sweeping the larger mess that was left behind.

His long hair laid in piles on the floor, some draped over the frame of his bed, resting on his pillow. Phil cleaned up the mess for him, cleaning out his pillows and swiping the strands from the sheets, shaking out his blanket to make sure he could get as much as possible. Disposing the hair into the bin, Technoblade watches him with heavy silence. 

They locked eyes again, prompting Technoblade to look down and sigh, standing up and taking his cape from the door. He hooked it around his shoulders, nodding to Phil, and leaving out the front door with a soft slam. Philza waited a few seconds before turning to the ladder. 

Time to have a talk with Tommy.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m such a sucker for these boys, even if i know it’s not technically canon :v


End file.
